#and tamed simon lol

[rogers-attic]

looks like steve got with lisa finally

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. just a snippet from my daily daydreams. ghoap x reader where simon and johnny are both mechanics. this is mostly just simon x reader though. heed the content warnings before reading.

cw: light piss play.

“finally got the heat in the truck fixed.” simon announced in lieu of a greeting as he stuck his head in your bedroom. he had been downstairs working on his truck in the shop since after dinner, leaving you upstairs alone. you felt bad not going with him to keep him company, but the shop gets too cold at night and simon ignores your pleas to turn he heat up for you.

you had curled yourself up in bed in a little nest to pass the time, waiting for them to come back to you for the night. you knew it wouldn’t have taken him long to fix the radiator in the truck, but you expected johnny home later into the night, out at the bar with his biker buddies.

“good job,” you praised from your spot on the bed, reaching down to pause your show on your laptop.

“wanna go for a ride?” johnny is much more social than either of you, so the two of you started taking late night drives in simon’s old truck on the nights johnny was out. it started with you sitting up against the passenger window, watching the fall colors under the glow from street lights. over time you made your way over to simon though, sitting in the middle seat of the bench, pressing yourself into his side, one of his big arms wrapped around you to keep you warm in the winter chill. you hadn’t been able to go for a drive in a few days with the heat being out, but you slide out from your little nest, feeling a buzz of energy at the prospect of quiet, alone time with simon.

you bundle yourself up in your boots and your jacket before making your way downstairs to the shop where simon is waiting for you in the truck. delicious heat envelopes you as soon as you open the door. a comfortable silence settles over the two of you as you make yourself comfortable against his side.

he pulls out of the garage and starts making familiar loops around the neighborhood. you take in the colorful chirstmas lights of the homes against the frost of the windows before simon starts turning onto back roads, leading you out of the city and onto tree lined dirt roads. he drives down and then pulls off into a clearing before turning to you for approval.

you take a quick glance around, not noticing any other cars or homes back in the tree line. “yeah, this is good.” you declare and then he’s opening up the driver’s side door and pulling you out with him. your boots crunch against the snowy ground as he opens the door to the back of the truck cab, guiding you in.

your knees have barely hit the cushions of the back seat before he’s on you. he’s like an animal, pawing at your jacket until he shucks it off of you and throws it to the floor and then he’s pulling your pants down to your bent knees, plastering himself to your back. he sucks bruises along your spine before roughly grabbing one cheek in each hand, pulling you a part, glistening cunt on display.

“si, it’s cold.” you whine, he’s still standing outside of the truck, door wide open allowing the freezing air to lick at your exposed skin. he huffs and grumbles, pushing your forward until your cheek rests against the back window when you hear the door slam shut and all you can feel is his big body around you. it’s in moments like these where you can’t help but shut your brain off as he pushes his cock into your aching cunt.

he’s like an animal, nails biting against your skin, thrusts pounding, groping just a little too hard at your plushness. but when he scrambles one of his big paws for hands against your clit you can't help but cry out at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. the friction of his calloused fingertips is perfect and the pressure makes you keen as you cream and pulse against his cock, milking his seed against your walls.

he settles against the seats, huffing out big breaths, as he pulls you against him. his touch is softer as he strokes his hands against your trembling body as you both come down from your highs.

eventually you untangle yourselves from each other, you put your coat back and your pants back from where they got twisted around your knees. you exit the cab through the back passenger door, simon going through the back driver’s side door. before you reach for the passenger door to get back in the front you come to an annoying realization. you let out a frustrated sigh.

“what?” simon questions, hand on the driver’s side door handle.

you think for a moment, knowing that you guys were miles in the woods and it would probably be another 20 minutes until you were back in the city. “i gotta pee,” you huff, “do you have a napkin or something in the truck?”

and when you turn to look at him all you get back is silence, he’s just looking at you over the other side of the hood of the truck. instead of asking again you just kneel down, pulling your pants back down around your knees. you grumble to yourself about how he can be such a weirdo sometimes before gathering the crotch of your pants in your hand so as to not get them wet. the cold air nips at your exposed thighs as you finally relax and try not to get your boots wet with your stream.

once finished you awkwardly try to shake your hips to dry yourself off. you straighten yourself back out, “simon-” before you can ask again about a napkin, he’s on you again. strong arm holding you against the truck door before squatting in front of you.

he surges forward, mouth on your dripping pussy before you can get another word out, his tongue dips between your folds, lapping up the mixture of your juices, his cum, and your piss. he sucks at your throbbing clit hard before pulling away entirely. he stands back up to his full height, wiping his mouth with his jacket sleeve. “all better.” he declares, gathering your pants back up and pulling them over your hips.

you feel dazed as he opens the door and herds you into the truck, getting you situated in the middle seat and even going as far as pulling the seatbelt across your lap and buckling you in. he shuts the door and you’re in awe as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side. most people would find it gross, what he had just done, but you were amazed by the intimacy of it all.

johnny would be so jealous of the both of you.

[chibishortdeath]

Had to remake this entire post cause I got gunk in my eye and set my phone down for two seconds to clean it and it crashed (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

Anyway, unfortunately slightly less excited/passionate version of this post it is then ughhhhh

Explanations yippie!

I got requested by some friends to draw Simon with short shorts and so I delivered. Really happy with the anatomy on this one :3

Yes this is Fuma slapping his ass and yes it was also a request lol

Simon did not expect that—

But it was a welcome surprise ;3

Simon and Fuma are cuddling in this one! It’s a little hard to make out what’s going on with their arms and legs tho whoops

Just a doodle about the artstyle crisis I had a bit ago with his hair. It didn’t last long and I ended up going right back to drawing it how I usually do anyway, but it was an interesting concept to try. Maybe I’ll try it out again someday cause it looks nice, but ehhhh I just didn’t end up enjoying drawing it very much tbh (TwT ).

To pair with the first image, I drew Simon in his cursed era with short shorts too hehe :3. I also started adding little dark vein patterns to the curse in this doodle :O. I think it’s giving cursed a lot more than just the bloody scratchy patterns I usually draw.

I like to think that maybe if Simon succumbed to the curse he’d end up a vampire. I mean, it’d track with vampire folklore surrounding the vampires’ curse. There’s a lot of stories where the vampire, even when dead or buried, can still long distance drain and inflict someone with illness and the end stage of it is death and coming back as a vampire or other spirit/ghoul. Aughhhh I had a much better rant about this written before the crash but I just can’t replicate it properly aaaaaaa curse you memory problems (;_; ). I’ll have to rant about vampire folklore in a separate dedicated post eventually, it’s fun :)

Yay, pose practice :3! Also this one is never getting finished, the anatomy was too fun to cover with big clunky armor 😔😔😔

This one I am also so proud of X]. I think this is my best depiction of the effects of the curse yet tbh. I had an explanation of the traits I usually depict it having before the crash, so I’ll try to make another one. First things first, it drastically affects the healing process. Things just don’t close up properly or at all in most cases. Old scars tend to open back up a lot easier and this is in part because of the second major effect: rotting. Rotting is a very explanatory word when it comes to physical ailments, implying decay or necrosis! It usually starts at the extremities or around the edges of wounds with skin darkening, bleeding, and either a dryness or wetness, then spreads inwards and downwards or through the blood to other areas. Especially in extreme cases, which I think 6 whole years qualifies for 💀. Simon would probably have very fragile skin in the most affected areas and long story short his hands and feet are probably raw most of the time yikes, ouch, this poor guy :(. I imagine that he probably has some kind of Belmont specific regenerative and resistant ability that’s kept him from dying from it for so long, since they are kinda implied to be a little superhuman in some way. Which is probably a blessing and a curse in itself because on one hand it did allow him to live long enough to fix the problem, but on the other hand that had to absolutely suck (haha, Drac haha). I’ve explained other elements of it in another older post now that I think of it, so I might have to gather all this stuff together and make a more in depth post about it cause it’s really neat to talk about :3! I had like a huge special interest as a kid for injury and disease cause I started making ocs and ran into a bunch of “how to write realistic injury” posts and I’m glad for it cause it comes back any time I’m writing or drawing something that requires that knowledge. :)

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

this is entirely @tame-the-lion-writes fault for giving me brain worms lol

it really does start with kyle-- he's the bird, he can scope out the area the 141 are staying for the time being. what he doesn't expect is you, the pretty thing fixing up one of the cabins near them. he starts to hang around, becomes noticed by you (especially when he leaves you trinkets on the porch). johnny is next, he follows kyle to see where he goes when he disappears for hours. johnny plunges in faster than kyle. he's rumbling through drawers and sleeping in your blankets not too far along while kyle perches on your desk chair. you're receptive but hesitant. should wild animals be this friendly?

it gets more concerning when there's a bear rolling around in your front yard. he pushes your mailbox down--then back up once he realizes it's down. he sticks his head through your kitchen window and demands toast. price wants in, the best way for that is being as harmless as possible. so letting gaz perch on him and soap sleep on him (grumpily). eventually he's rewarded with head pats and cuddles in the living room (thankful for the wide door).

simon is much more reluctant. you can see him lurking, following you from afar, but he only ever gets close if you're in need of help. one time another big dog snarled at you and he attacked it. another time he led you away from a burrow of snakes. you see him with the fox, who plays with his tail and nimbles his haunches, but that's about it. he'll sleep on the porch when the other three are inside. you leave him scraps and let him be distant for awhile. it's a trust exercise to get him to be near you, so when he eventually comes to lay at the door to your room and allows soft touches to his ears, you take the win.

they're surprisingly helpful. ghost will bring you your shoes and gaz retrieves earrings. soap picks out blouses while price decides how cohesive the outfit is. they're good at online shopping and johnny will hide in your bag when you go to pick it up. they like to "find" money for you so you don't feel as bad dressing up more. gaz learns to braid with his beak while simon lays his head on your thigh.

they've managed to explain their nicknames of "gaz" (fridge letters), soap (lots of soap bars with teeth marks), "ghost" (a bed sheet and the way he acts), and "price" (money, lots of it, with help from the fridge letters).

they're not sure how to broach the "shifter" topic, so they don't for the time being. they take care of you in the ways they can, you bandage their paws and offer forehead kisses.

[wanderingpages]

Peach wait what are you gonna write a Priest!Cardan AU?? Oh my god?? 😭😭

NO

[madamecaos]

Crush(ing) pt.2

Summary: Where Ghost goes a little too rough on you in training then makes up for it.

6k+ ish words │ Ghost (Simon Riley) x Y/N

Warning: Mature filth, probably depression

A/N: You know the drill, no proofread found here. (This is literally an experiment to fight head-on my perfectionism lol)

Part 1

Part 2

Johnny must have said something, you realized the next morning. There was no way the strict management would provide him a personal room without providing some sort of information of a necessity.

And the team was… nicer. You couldn’t explain nor figure out if Johnny had told all the details. Or at least some because no one looked at you with pity.

Training was the same, no sparring today, just some laps and some cardio-inducing sweat. You hadn’t seen Ghost anywhere yet, but something told you he wouldn’t go near you anytime soon. Despite this team being one of the most secretive amongst the military branches, it wouldn’t be excluded from a bureaucratic process if you were to accuse him of something.

Of what, you weren’t sure. You were angry, but you weren’t there yet.

Everything was… as if you weren’t just another ‘lad’ in the team. Soap greeted you with his usual jolly good morning, kept an ongoing conversation like usual, but he filled up your tray and carried it to your table. This was the first time someone had done that. Gaz offered to carry your gym bag back to your room. Price rescheduled a briefing on the intel, allowing you to have fun and explore the city, or whatever that meant without any sort of security to follow you around.

Odd, and confusing. You weren’t sure you were complaining at the sudden reprieve from military treatment, but you weren’t sure if you were comfortable with being treated like a child. As something fragile.

Whatever, your complaining could wait a few days. You wanted to get your hair done and get some coffee that didn’t taste like water and bitter mornings.

So you did, you went shopping for clothes that you weren’t sure about when and where you would wear. At the same time, you eyed the open-back blouses wistfully, a little part of you wishing that your life wasn’t so filled with bruises and scars.

But that was the job. You had to get by.

The taxi left you at the entrance, the driver not having the credentials to enter the base, but that was not a problem.

You couldn’t find your badge, the guard’s expectation making the rummaging of your purse more aggressive. And again, that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that, when the guard opened the gates, making you think that he had recognized you and would allow you in, Ghost was standing right smack at the middle as they parted, expecting you. He was as casual as yesterday, a long sleeve tee and the expected balaclava.

You returned his inquisitive stare for a few seconds, the handles of the shopping bags digging into your bruised-enough arms. The hot shower last night had helped tame down the swelling, but not enough to not to feel it.

Keeping that in mind, you walked forward with all intention to ignore him. As you neared-

‘Ma’am-“

“She’s with me,” Ghost said, not allowing any doubt in his tone. The guard, given Ghost’s no-nonsense attitude, didn’t argue. The guard had recognized you but was jut being difficult, surely.

“May I?” He asked as he matched your pace, the whirring of the gates closing behind you occupying the silence.

You faltered and cursed internally. So much for not being affected by him.

Without hesitation nor expecting an answer, he took your bags, and you couldn’t help but notice he avoided skin contact.

The walk to your room was tense. His footsteps were not as quiet as usual, which made you think he made noise on purpose, enough for you to be aware of how far behind he stayed.

Somehow that put you somewhat at ease, but not enough. Ghost being nice? Something was happening, you just didn’t know what, but at the same time you were done assuming things about him and what his actions meant.

“I’m in a different room.” You explained as you neared the corner of the hallway that used to be your bunk bed.

“I know,” he answered just as briefly.

From your peripheral, you eyed him. You returned your gaze forward immediately when you met his, as he was already looking at you. His eyes seemed to have more depth under the fluorescent lights, no horror nor worry to be found this time.

But they weren’t blank and unexpressive as usual. 

Eyes centered forward, you finally neared your room, eying warily the small cooler right by the door. When you opened your new room, you turned to ask for your bags.

You should’ve known this was a trick as he shouldered himself into what was supposed to be your safe space.

Tiny and cautious steps led you in as he placed the bags on the simple desk. You left the door open.

Then, he had the gall to point at the bed. “Sit.”

He turned back, and returned as he closed the door, now cooler in hand.

You stood frozen in the middle of the room. The frown that marred your face was enough for him to falter. You looked at the bed slowly, then back to him.

This room, away from the others, was all him. The room was far away from the people that knew there was tension between you two, and now he was demanding that you sat on the bed. There was no question as to what this might lead to.

You were no barrack bunny.

Your heart wanted to crawl up your throat.

“Please…” He showed his hands as a peace offering, placating. You were too in your head to notice the ice packs. He made another gesture towards the bed. “Cold helps swelling go down.”

You wanted to think that he genuinely wanted to help, but that tiny monstrous voice in the back of your mind told you he must want the bruises gone because they were proof enough of his brutality.

Intrusively, the dark thought developed. He must want a blank canvas to ruin again.

“You can barely see them now,” you said, knowing that your strong reprieve would loosen if you felt his hands on your skin.

He took a deep breath in, seeking patience at your resistance. “Right.”

Droplets hit the floor as the ice packs melted. When you realized he wouldn’t move, you sighed and took them from him. “Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

You sat on the corner of the bed and begrudgingly placed an ice pack beneath your shirt, the size of it barely covering the span of your shoulder. Thankfully, you were strong enough to hold in the hiss at the contact. ���There, happy?”

“No,” he reached for more inside the cooler. “I know it’s not only your shoulder.”

He waited for you to act, but not patiently, that much you could tell, but he was smart enough to not push you. Instinctively, you held in an eyeroll and laid down on the bed, belly down. If this is what you had to do to get him out of here faster, then so be it.

Tentatively, he grasped the bottom of your shirt, avoiding skin. He managed to lift your shirt halfway, before it became troublesome for him to reach all the marks.

There was hesitation in his actions. The sure soldier now timid, uncertain, not knowing what was required. There was no way your clothes wouldn’t soak as the ice packs melted, and there was no way he could reach the bruises on your upper back without seeing.

He paused and you knew what he was asking of you, silently and unwearyingly. At least, he was smart enough not to make demands when you laid in this vulnerable position.

But, when you sat up and shed off your shirt and bra, he took a trembling breath as if he was the one being splayed open. Ghost looked away respectfully but caught the deep shades of blue and purple in the corner of his eye.

After shedding the only layer that covered your back, you laid belly down, pretending that you weren’t as nervous as him.

You expected clinical detachment from the man that had shown you only that, but as he sucked in a breath at the sight of your spine, you knew this was anything but.

Your arms pillowed your head as you faced the wall, concentrating on counting from one to ten as cold burned along the length of your spine.

Instinctively, you hissed when the cold packs reached a really sore mark that had been beneath the clasp of your bra all day.

“Easy,” he mumbled, deep voice doing nothing to help the rising goosebumps along your skin. “Going up now.”

He warned before you felt the branding of his fingertip, tenderly brushing away the hair from the nape of your neck. The shiver that racked through your body had nothing to do with the cold.

“Tickles,” you grumbled, burying your face further into the sheets.

“Yeah?” He mused gently, doing nothing to hide the fond undertone.

The voice inside your subconscious kept screaming that this meant nothing. That this was a soldier taking care of another. A weak link in the team meant repercussions.

The time passed in silence, and going against your instinct, you did nothing to fill it.

What could you say? That you mark easily? That it wasn’t his fault?

You said nothing, just like him. Thankfully, in the shadows of the sunset that bled into the room, you found yourself asleep before you had to face another awkward goodbye from the man that, surprisingly, felt something other than disdain for you.

--

This had been the offset routine for the last two days. And, for the first time in a while, you wished one of the terrorists reappeared for a whole other reason. This break had to end, or you would lose your mind.

“Easy,” he coached as he always did when he iced your back, as he’s been doing every night.  Only the phantom-like of his fingertips brushed against you as you hissed. “There we go.”

His hushed worry didn’t help.

The tension and the edging had you holding in the urge to squirm. The gnawing lust you felt for the man must be unnatural, and in the midst of your grudge, you thought he was doing this on purpose.

But, to your disbelief (and delight), he’s done nothing but be a gentleman inside and outside the bedroom.

During drills, he checked in often. Inconspicuous to your teammates, he let you off on not running the last lap. He also refused to let you spar with anyone “until you’ve recovered” he said once. The first day at training was fine, the second day you remembered why you were mad in the first place.

Despite doing the most in your mock fights, he didn’t believe you were strong for this job overall. The Lieutenant didn’t believe you were his equal.

But the third night you thought it over because, when the night was at its darkest, he visited your door, awaiting for entrance and a silent forgiveness for what he’d done.

When you removed your shirt, he looked away. He asked, checked and coddled you as he placed each icepack, never allowing his flesh to touch yours. Also, you weren’t going to pretend that he didn’t caress your hair away, being the opposite of methodical.

So you found yourself on the third night, laying belly down on the bed. The bruises were almost already gone, most yellow and transparent.

Part of you knew this was the last night he would do this, and part of you wondered if he would find another excuse to interact with you? Should you leave it up to chance and wait for him to act? Did he even want to? Or was this a one-time thing, a reprieve for the brutality he had put you through? That would mean that, when all wounds were healed, there was nothing else tying you two.

Maybe this was the last time you had the opportunity to speak with a semblance of privacy, outside of the norms of a soldier. This gave you enough bravery to do something different.

This time, as he was placing the last icepack on your upper back, you turned your head, now facing him.

If you weren’t so in tune with his movements, you wouldn’t have caught the slight falter as he pressed gently, right by your shoulder. Unintentionally, this was a sign that the dynamics had changed.

He didn’t have as much power as he thought, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. There was a conversation to be had, and he couldn’t bully nor punch himself through it.

Two days ago, you would’ve been furious at yourself for reading him so easily.

With no other space left to blanket your back, he leaned backwards, sighing heavily into his chair. At your ongoing stare, you dared to believe he looked defeated.

“The team is leaving in two days, 0800,” he started.

You merely blinked and his fingers twitched, fighting the urge to fidget.

He blinked back, the balaclava doing nothing to hide the tightening of his jaw. “Price has scheduled a briefing for tomorrow.”

“I heard.”

There was some information he wanted from you, but you weren’t sure what. The details mentioned were already rumors around the whole base, they were no secret.

After a pause, he looked around the barren barrack. “I haven’t heard of a request for transfer.”

“The Captain would be the only one privy to that information, would he not?”

He grunted in agreement. A long pause, then Ghost played again with the skin of his knuckles. What an odd time to notice that he hadn’t been wearing gloves this whole time.

“Just tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Don’t be difficult,” he snarked, baiting you for an answer in your usual anger, but you thought a lot about how you wanted this night to go. You laid placidly, feeling the ice melting against your back.

“More demands then,” you sighed, merely disappointed, cheek pillowed against your arm.

“Demands? You threaten to leave, and then I ask if you’ve requested a transfer-“

“That would imply that you, indeed, asked a question,” you said, gently as you kept staring at him, unexpressive. “The only question you’ve asked me since we’ve met is ‘are you dumb?’ three weeks ago while training.”

He went still and you waited for a refusal, an excuse that the military was no place for questions or politeness. He had been trained to take, follow orders and for others to do the same.

“You don’t ask.”

“I don’t… I only want to know if you’re leaving. After…”

-After he had to ice your back for several days straight after he didn’t know how to measure the severity of his strength. You were stealing one of his tactics, one that worked well with you. Allow the other to make the assumptions, fill the silence and reap the benefits.  

“Then ask.” You said, as if it was the most obvious thing. “What do you want to know, Lieutenant?”

In the dimmed lighting of your temporary reprieve, the silhouette of the man that had driven you near insanity moved and leaned in, elbows resting on his knees.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, lowly, as if it were a secret between you two.

You played along and tilted your head downwards minutely. His eyes followed the movement along as if he was starved for it. “Would you like me to?”

Just as gradually, he shook his head. The slow denial whilst holding your stare did something to you, enough to forgive that he hadn’t rebutted your leave with words. But, given the deep breaths he was taking, which might have been unnoticed for anyone else, you knew he was meticulously observing you, gauging you for your wants and needs.

You knew that look, the sudden shift. He was a soldier in a battlefield, a soldier with a mission. Ghost wanted you to stay and, right now, he was quietly asking what would get him exactly that.

“Anything else you wanted to ask me?” You asked, acting oblivious to his intensity.

You could play games too.

After a beat, still and unmoving, he shook your entire belief that he was cruel and uncaring. “Do you forgive me?”

Your breath stuttered, cool girl act failing, hardly hiding how those words affected you. Wide eyed, you stared and muttered dumbly a ‘what?’

While this night passed in the secret of your bedroom, you thought it would all be forgotten. Somehow, in your expertise as to what was Ghost, he was a man of action, not words. As you laid there, ice reddening the skin of your back, you believed that as soon as the bruises disappeared, nothing else would be mentioned. No words necessary. Transgressions would have never been declared again, and Ghost would’ve gone back to the cooly and indifferent Lieutenant you’ve come to known.

Asking for forgiveness and admitting fault felt like a whole other monster entirely.

At your silence, he leaned forward, allowing one knee to fall, then the other with a thud. The chair creaked at the movement as the man left the seat.

By your bedside, Ghost carefully knelt with hands splayed on his thighs. The bed wasn’t tall enough, so even kneeling, he had to hunch himself to keep eye contact with you. His eyes roved over your face, with thirst for any reaction that wasn’t hatred.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked again carefully, trying to get through your petrified form.

You merely blinked without words coming to mind, avoiding the burn behind your eyes. Along with a faltered breath, a shiver racked along the length of your spine, drawing his eyes to the goosebumps rising on your skin.

The ice had already melted, wetting the towel pinned beneath you. He had thought of everything.

Ghost returned his stared back to yours, finally catching the minuscule nod as an answer to his question.

He returned your nod with one of his own.

It seemed that the confirmation sprung him into action, like that was all he needed to hear. He stood and you did nothing else but lay there, immobile with your back exposed as he returned the melted ice packs to the cooler. Other nights, you had fallen asleep before he left, even with the cold covering your back.

You had often woken up with a towel-dried skin and the covers drawn up to your neck.

This time, you weren’t sure what to expect. Was this it? Now that you said yes, would it all go back to normal? Would he avoid you in the hallways and bark instructions in the battlefield?

The click of the cooler closing seemed to echo in the room and a sense of finality settled in.

You sat up, clutching the towel to your chest, doing the impossible to cover the shivers running through your body.

Despite his rapid movements to clean and organize every item he brought up, you knew he was running from the mere second he was vulnerable. There was no way this man had gotten on his knees before, not for anyone.

Given his braveness, you dared to ask the question that had plagued you since he stood up. “Is this it?”

No begging in your tone, no expectations. If he said he was done, you wouldn’t bring it up, wouldn’t claim nor believe he owed you anything, you decided. You weren’t also blind to the fact that he was always the one that set the tone for whatever sort of relationship you two had.

The man was always covered, always on guard, always a higher ranking, always more methodical.

And you already said what he needed to hear. There was no solid reason for him to come back.

“Are we… normal now?”

Ghost turned slowly, and you weren’t sure what he saw when he looked at you, but his intent gaze definitely brought you flashbacks. It wouldn’t be the first time he had looked at you like that after having access to your body, and then turn away and out of your life as if it meant nothing.

You had expected him to do the same as that night, the night where you found reprieve in each other’s bodies, then never spoke about it again.

Expectation kept you still, bracing for whatever nonchalant rejection came your way.

“You look at me as if you expect the worst from me,” he said as he turned towards the entrance, no hurry in his pace. His hand reached for the handle; cooler left behind at the desk. The lock clicked shut. “I aim to change that.”

You didn’t know what was more important, to breathe, to speak or to run.

He didn’t leave space for that as he headed towards you, expectation building at his leisurely pace. As if he had all the time in the world, he knelt again before you, eyes leveled with yours. This time, he was closer, enough for you to feel the heat through his clothing.

Hands that had known nothing but violence reached for your face, slowly but steady.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, something akin to worry in his tone. Thumbs caressed your cheeks as he held your face, searching for any reaction that might be against this.

“I’m cold,” you replied in barely a hush, shoulders caving at your vulnerable state.

Decidedly, you wanted to do the same. He saw the intention behind your actions as you gave him enough time to stop you.

Carefully, you reached forward, allowing the towel that covered your chest to drop, and rolled up the balaclava that had you spiraling over the last few missions.

Simon didn’t look down but searched for your eyes as you took in the face of the man that had plagued your dreams and nightmares.

You chuckled and he tensed.

“ ‘s not fair.”

His blonde eyebrows furrowed, distorting slightly the scar above his right eye.

“You can’t be buff and pretty,” you jested, eyes crinkling at the corners when you tried to hide your grin.

Uncharacteristically, he rolled his eyes and huffed at your joke. This made your smile widen, thinking about how expressive he really is as he was used to hiding behind a mask.

And you wanted to live in this moment, where you could appreciate every detail of his face, something that you’ve had the sole honor to see, but your anxiety was driving you wild.

You hated yourself for a moment, as he held your face fondly, for not being able to accept the present and wonder if this was a one time thing. After this night was done and he had proven he was more than pain and passion, would this tender moment live in your mind and your wishes for more.

It was sad but not unusual to expect crumbs.

As if sensing the shift in your mood, his head tilted, observing. Hands that radiated warmth drifted down to your neck, your shoulders then your hair as he caressed the wisps down your back.

“What is it?” he asked, low and worried.

The fact that he asked was monumental, but not enough to get you out of your spiraling.

“I’m not… I don’t expect anything,” you started, or tried to as the wide circles massaged into the tense muscles of your lower back served as a distraction. “But do I have to…”

His pinning and inquisitive stare had you stuttering and quivering.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I know but…” You dared to finally look back at him and asked meekly. “Do I have to pretend this never happened? Like last time.”

No answer from him, merely a sigh and you bit your tongue. You sat up straight with a mournful smile as he retreated his arms from your body and you crossed your arms across your chest.

He stood up and this time you expected him to leave, truly.

Instead, you got a, “turn around and take off your pants.”

He certainly could be blunt when he wanted to. At your confusion and furrowed eyebrows, he took the liberty to manhandle you into what he asked of you. With his hands on your hips, you stood with no space between you two. As you stared, he methodically undid your belt with a clink and unclasped your pants, then knelt, bringing your pants down with him. One hand behind your knee had you lifting your foot, then the other, leaving you in your underwear.

You kept looking down at him, asking silently what the hell got into him that had you standing in your underwear. The expression on his face dared you to say something.

Did he look like that every time you had been stubborn?

Without regrets, he turned you then pushed down on you, until you laid flat, belly down, similar to what you had been 10 minutes ago.

“You might be bipolar, has someone told you that?” You huffed, annoyed, about to use your arms to rest your head. That was until your wrists were taken, arms placed by your sides.

Then, the bed dipped with the weight of a full-grown man as he sat behind you, inches away from your thighs. Unlike the other nights, you expected an icepack to be placed carefully on your skin. Instead, you felt something liquid and cold after something clicked open.

You hadn’t even noticed he had caressed your hair away, leaving the span of your back exposed.

Then hands burrowed into your skin, massaging away the shocking cold from the lotion that sat innocently on your nightstand. Simon was now digging his thumbs into the knots of your back and the nape of your neck, ignoring the hisses you let at the pressure.

If this was the way he would act whenever you bombarded him with a vulnerable question, you might do it more often.

“No,” he said after a few minutes, your mind already drifting to a calmer place.

“No, no one’s told you you’re bipolar?”

“No,” he answered gruffly. “You’re not allowed to pretend this didn’t happen.”

You kept your eyes closed despite your surprise as the pressure of his hands drifted downwards, avoiding your underwear, heading directly to knead your legs, your calves. The proximity of his thumbs between the apex of your thighs had you squirming.

“If you do, I’ll have to find ways to make you remember.”

You barely held the groan when his thumbs dug away into the sole of your feet. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it.

“You be stubborn. I’ll keep finding ways to make you feel good.”

Despite your newly found relaxed state, you couldn’t fight the sensation pooling in your lower stomach. You might’ve drifted to sleep in this tender moment, but your mind kept wondering what else those hands could do. How much pressure could those thumbs do?

As he drifted upwards, he caught on your squirming, teasing gently as he kept massaging your thighs. Just as carefully, his fingertips brushed against the edge of your underwear.

“Need something, sweet girl?” He taunted but did nothing to hide the grave tone of his own lust. Not long after, his thumbs ‘accidently’ brushed against the cleft between your legs.

You bit your tongue, aiming to be stubborn and curious as to what he would do without guidance.

After he had enough, your underwear was tentatively pulled down to your feet. Then the hands that had been so through on relaxing you were now silently positioning you upwards to your parted knees, back arched as your torso laid placidly.

When he got you like he wanted, his fingers dug into your upper thighs for leverage, expecting you to run away. And that you did as a soft breath brushed against you before the slickness of a tongue delved into you.

You flinched instinctively at the sensation with a whimper, but he held you to him. He was no shy adventurer.

Simon had been teasing all night, and it seemed he was done playing games. His tongue, along with his lips, left nothing unexplored. His hands roamed along your flesh, issuing pressure to your lower back when needed to keep you arched enough for him. There were no tentative licks nor touches as he hummed into your folds, slick running down his chin.  

Thumbs splayed you open, and your whimpers rose into moans as he lapped at your clit with enough tension to make you gasp for breaths. Instinctively, you reached back, fingers latching into a full head of hair.

When you pulled, he moaned just as loud as you. That seemed to unravel him, his careful lapping now an intense suckling as he inserted one finger, then two. The hollow beneath your lower stomach now partially full. You were wet enough to accept whatever he had to give you.

When he dug down, aiming for your upper walls, you keened. He rubbed and rubbed, fingers so thick he had no problem hammering away into your g-spot repeatedly.

Now your moans were let out brazenly, gasping into the pillow as he did his best to burrow himself into your skin.

The shaking started on your calves, the tension rising upwards to your lower back. The sensation seemed to spur him on into a continuous pattern where he kept his mouth latched on you as your nerves coiled into and impending life-changing orgasm.

With a shock, your body spasmed with a silent scream, the soldier holding you tight through your tremors. Violent shock after shock racked through you until you managed to get some air in a keening moan. After seconds, Simon petting you lightly with his tongue and feeling every spasm, you laid back down placidly, all energy sucked out of you.

At the first flinch of overstimulation, he languidly let you go, barely letting his hands off your skin as he laid you flat on the bed.

He was out of breath too, but something told you it had more to do with the tent in his pants than lack of oxygen.

Owlishly, you looked back at him through the haze. As soon as he started petting your hair, you knew you lost whatever battle had been going on between you two.

Simon had done the impossible; proven he was going nowhere and that he was just as obsessed with you as you were with him.

And, as if nothing short of extraordinary had happened, his hands drifted lower to keep the ongoing massage as the remnants of your pleasured haze pulled you to sleep.

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses part 6: birthday present

cw: this one is nasty lol

Gaz wants to make home movies :) special lingerie for the occasion, a really nice camcorder you had no idea he had, a tripod he borrowed from someone who definitely doesn’t know what he’s using it for. And he wants to have you in literally every position you’ll let him get you in. One day, Gaz is going to get drunk and let slip that the video exists, and Soap is going to beg to see it, just so you know.

Ive mentioned what Soap wants for his birthday a couple of times, but I’ll say the more tame of my ideas again: no deodorant and he wants you to work out. Literally get as sweaty as you can with as much of your musk in your underwear as possible. Nothing to hide your natural scent. He wants to bury his face in your panties and your pits while her jerks himself off, then he’s gonna shoves his face in your cunt and spend a few hours down there.

Simon wants you to go somewhere with him wearing a skirt, and going commando. Some mid-thigh length number that he can easily slip his way under wherever you are, whenever he feels like it. Don’t worry, he’ll help you hold it down when a breeze comes by.

Price wants you collared. Who says just cause it’s his birthday, he should be the only one getting a gift? Don’t worry— he won’t have you leashed when you go out for his birthday dinner— just when you get home. Well, maybe in the car. But when you’re out, he keeps a grip on the back of the collar to lead you around, as casually as he puts his hand on the small of your back usually. And you KNOW the first thing that gonna happen when you get home is you getting on your knees, the leash wrapped in his fist while he pulls your mouth farther down his cock.

König wants heat roleplay. There, I said it. He already calls you maus, now he wants to see you wet and needy and desperate for him like a mammal in heat. Is he going to ask you to wear ears and a tail? No. Is he going to get so hard he almost passes out if you do? Yes. He loves the idea of you needing him and only him to be satisfied— that there’s a fire inside you that only he can quench. And to do so, he’s gonna have to fuck you raw until you’re dripping with him, bred the way you need to be.

Nikolai wants costumes and roleplay. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Teacher and schoolgirl, pilot and stewardess, slasher and camp counselor, knight and princess, evil advisor and princess (and yes, he gets you a different princess dress than the one from last year), he comes up with a new one every year. Once he even managed to get what quite honestly looked like authentic uniforms from world war 2, one Russian infantry and one nurse’s uniform.

[mrshesh]

i saw on your rules that you don’t write hardcore nsfw, so im gonna try to stay tame LOL

how would ghost be in bed? i feel like im so conflicted about this topic

ghost in bed - simon "ghost" riley x reader

overview: how simon "ghost" riley would be like in bed

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gender neutral reader, romantic

genre: smut, fluff

a/n: i'm actually so passionate about this topic. he's very misrepresented in our fandom, so i'd like to give my two cents regarding this topic. thanks for the request, anon!

TW! mentions of SA, abuse, suicide, and torture. proceed with caution.

Contrary to popular belief, he is not the rough dom everyone makes him out to be. He wouldn’t slap or spit on you. He wouldn’t push your head into the mattress and call you the filthiest words that come to mind - no, he’d be gentle, careful, and loving. 

Simon has been through hell and back - he knows what it feels like to be hurt better than anyone. Physically, verbally, emotionally, and psychologically, you name it! He knows it all, so he doesn’t get off on it. 

His past is extremely gut-wrenching. He got betrayed by everyone, even his own team. He got tortured for months and months on end, to the point where he got severe PTSD and anxiety. He suffers from nightmares and panic attacks and has even tried to take his own life. We also know that he got SA’d in the past, in the months he got gravely tortured. (Reading the comic was seriously terrifying.)

The fact that his father was abusive isn’t helping his case, either. 

And on top of that, he dislikes exposing his body and face. 

So best believe he’s only sleeping with you when you fully trust each other.

And when he does have sex with you, my god, it’s gentle. 

He loves missionary and sitting cowgirl. Being able to hold you close, look you in the eyes, kiss your cheeks, and press his forehead against yours - those things he’d do during sex, not choke you till you pass out.

He has lost everything he has ever loved, so losing what he loves the most, you, is out of the question for him. And that results in him being extremely cautious while having sex. He’s terrified of scaring you away. 

He whispers sweet nothings in your ear constantly. “I love you so much.” “Takin’ me so well.” “You’re so beautiful.” 

His face is redder than a tomato. Having intimacy with someone he loves is a pretty new thing to him, so his cheeks are painted a light pink from the get-go. 

The aftercare consists of soft kisses, compassionate touches as he cleans you up, and praise, so much praise. 

The moral of the story - he's a gentle giant who's absolutely terrified to lose you, despite his hard rock exterior.

this turned dark really quick, but it had to be said.

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT ; at a trampoline park

includes ; tommyinnit, badlinu, ranboo, & quackity

warnings ; language, mentions of nosebleeds

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

absolute problem child

we all saw the trampoline park vlog

jumping off anything and everything

almost broke his ankle double bouncing onto a hard ledge because he's a dumbass

constantly double bouncing you

forces you to hold his belongings, like just set them on the ground it'll be fine. we're three feet away 😭😭😭

makes you hold the vlog camera at all times when he's doing tricks and attempting them

throws a ball straight at your face and gives you a teeny tiny nosebleed

"Tommy, what the hell?"

"Sorry!"

gets the staff to play Jort Storm over the speakers

people stare at him the whole time like "who is that annoying child?"

if only they subscribed

BADLINU

a little less tame than the problem child

he and harry attempt to do tricks off the angled trampolines and that just goes so well

he records the whole thing for his weekly vlog dw

the amount of double bouncing.

you wanna puke when you're getting ready to leave

Freddie almost lost his phone in the weird pit of soft cubes

there's a slide, which just goes so, so crazy hard

in the vlog he edits in some copyright free metal and that stupid red filter if yk what I'm talking about

somehow you ended up busting your finger on the side and he slows it down like an instant replay 💀💀💀

RANBOO

does a bunch of tricks to land in the hand-on-head-laying-on-side position like in the tom simons vlog from like 2 years ago

doesn't mean to double bounce you but he does constantly

jumps over the hard ledges like it's so easy

you almost break your legs trying that

wrestling matches

that's a story in itself

you pour water into his mouth through his mask while he's wrestling Tommy like it's the WWE

QUACKITY

gets you guys those cheap sunglasses

he got the blue and yellow star ones

so swag

he posts a pic on Twitter and saves it in his photos to his 'shenanigans' album lol

double bouncing competitions

he almost loses his beanie like 10000 times

you guys call like karl or tubbo and bother them for like five minutes while you're taking a break lol

[ellaa-writes]

Good Dog

author note: Part 3 yay!! Series list found here. I actually edited this one, I know! Probably still mistakes lol, I love writing this type of Simon but mean Simon is still my favourite. Reader and Simon parts are going on at different times, weeks apart, just in case of any confusion of time line. Enjoy!

summary: His favourite words include; down boy, good dog, heel, fetch and his most favourite, get 'em. Well trained, and listens good. Loyal through and through. Always striving to be the absolute best. Ready to attack at all times, always on guard. Loves discipline, either giving or receiving. Working for a criminal mastermind, lurking in the shadows. You both trying not to be seen or noticed but after one unlucky night, all you both can see are the ghosts. He invades your life, if you both like it or not.

tags: Alternative Universe. Female reader. A/B/O dynamics. Alpha Simon, Beta Reader, Bad Scottish lingo (I tried). Very tame and a chapter filler.

You hadn't seen Simon in a few weeks, must have gotten bored you thought, eventually everyone leaves so why wouldn't he. Things felt different with him, like timed slowed down and life finally had a meaning.

You stopped in front of a news stand, big bold letters. OMEGA POPLUATION HITS AN ALL TIME LOW; leading scientists may have found a solution. You snatched the paper and handed the worker $5 telling him to keep the rest as you rushed back home paper in hand. The title wasn't what caught your attention, it was a few paragraphs down the words doctor and experimental procedure. Tossing your belongings on the dining table soon as you entered your grungy apartment.

Reading the article fully, then once more. Doctors have developed a experimental drug that could alter a Beta women's chemistry. Tricking the body into thinking its an Omega, a few experiments have been conducted and results have so far been proven successful. But they are searching for more Beta women to submit themselves into the program.

Those words playing over and over in your head, becoming an Omega, and having a loyal and supportive Alpha. Not having to worry about all the small things, not having to work and struggle to make ends meet. You could leave your pathetic life behind.

All Simon did was follow orders, being the good dog, he is. A successful mission out of the way, the Boss left before he did. Having to hurry back cause of his Omega. Simon used to have dreams about settling down, but that was before he became ghost. Stupid child aspirations, but mostly because he felt like he didn't deserve one. And who would want him as an Alpha, all teeth, and hard edges. It would be a punishment to be stuck with him until death, and death would be the reward.

You jotted the number down on a piece of paper and stuck it to your fridge. You didn't have to decide now, but you were tempted to.

Dealing with Makarov was easier than expected most of these men act tough on the outside but soon as you start pulling out their insides, they change their tune. He wasn't in too much of a hurry to get home, it's been two weeks since he last saw her, he's been keeping his distance, not wanting to poison her cause that's what he was poison.

It was very late into the night when he finally arrived in the city, driving down the desolate neighborhoods till he found himself parked in front of his apartment. Not the one across from hers but the one he bought himself soon as he had enough money too. The only thing that remained from his previous life. Cutting the engine and walking inside.

He still had a landline, hard wired into the wall next to the thermostat. He's never used it and has never had anyone call it. Not like many people have the number anyways, emergency he told himself when he bought and installed it all those years ago. Having the number updated in his file, but now it hangs there mockingly. Much to his surprise when he walked into his quiet home, a little red dot glowing from the device.

He ignored it at first, taking his clothes off to take a quick shower. To wash away the memories that still plague him, the water never being hot enough. He stood there in nothing but a towel around his waist. Staring at that glowing red light, missed call.

He should just delete it, but he decided to play the message. A voice came through the small speaker, one that he thought he'd never hear again. John Price.

"Oi Simon, it's John. Ain't sure if this dog and bone's still on the go. Tried your mobile, but it's saying it's disconnected. Anyways, thought I'd drop you a bell 'cause we're gonna be in the city for a bit. Fancy a chinwag, like the old days, yeah? So, give me a call, same digits as ever. It'd be proper nice to catch up, Simon."

It was silent for a while afterwards, only Simon's heaving breathing filling up the space. Not once did they call him while he was locked up doing time, not once did they reach out and say they cared. They were family once, at least he thought they were. Stupid.

All the rage simmering up inside of him finally boiled over the edge. Simon grabbed the stupid phone and slammed it into the wall as hard as he could, again and again until there was nothing left but broken pieces of plastic, wiring and now a hole in his wall.

It only took you three hours of pacing back and forth in your tiny apartment, the small piece of paper stuck to your fridge door taunting you. As the line rang you debated on hang up, forgetting any of this happened but it was to late. The reception answered your call, redirecting you to the head of the project. Giving a little info over the phone they scheduled you in for the same day if you could make it. It was on the other side of town, the side you hardly went to cause there was no need. Unless you wanted to make yourself feel even more shitty about your life.

He debated if he should call, be the bigger person the little voice in his head called out. They had their reasoning for abandoning him, for treating him like the plague, they had to, right?

You were on the bus, watching as the fading sun descended and the moon turned brighter. The glow of city coming to life, some many people out and about. You barely had enough money to and back, getting off at the stop further away. Walking the rest to save a bit of cash and take in the scenery. The air was crisp, it never got too cold during the winter season. Also, long as the wind stayed away it was a mild year so far.

To say this was awkward was an understatement. Simon sat across from the beta Scottsman, not much has changed he thought. The group of men still joking around like nothing happened like good ol' times, they kept trying to get him in on it. Simon soon realised that this was a mistake, all of it. Calling Price and picking out this bar. They weren't his pack anymore, they ditched him soon as things went south.

Simon's grip on his glass of bourbon tightened when Johnny yelled "Right Lt." the group getting quiet afterwards, Johnny knew he fucked up. Simon got up abruptly, taking a big gulp of the burning liquid amber, polishing off his drink before slamming it back down.

"Goin’ for a smoke." as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. Marching towards the front door. He could hear Kyle's faint call of his name, the beta man always playing mediator, Price holding Johnny back like an Alpha would a misbehaving puppy as Simon made his way outside.

"Bunch of fuckin' pricks." it was a whisper to himself, digging out his pack of smokes and shoving one into his mouth. Lighting it with ease as he sucked in a big lung full. The door to the bar opened and closed, fully expecting to smell the cigar-soaked Alpha but instead it was Johnny tail between his legs.

"I ken ye dinnae wanna gab about it." he tried but Simon cut him right off. "I don't." blowing a huge cloud in the betas face. "Weel, someone's gotta." he just wanted some fucking peace and quiet. "The start talkin’ or shut the fuck up." dropping his finished cigarette to the ground, giving it a good stomp before putting another to his lips.

"Things have changed, ye've changed. Ah ken everything's aw fucked up right now. We tried-" Simon huffed out a stiff laugh, not believing a thing the Scott was saying. He could see his lips still moving but he couldn’t hear what he was saying as a familiar scent caught his nose.

Before Simon could think a small body collided with Soaps as he stepped out towards the curb with a hand to the back of his neck. "Ah, fuck, sorry ‘bout that, lass." Simon watched in slow motion as you got knocked off balance. Johnny reaching out to help the poor thing but before, he could feel the growl coming from his chest and throat. Pushing the Beta to the side as he took a hold of you, bring you to his chest.

He could hear your lower whimper, there was something different about you. Your scent was sweeter, it was pulling him in like a bee to a flower. "Simon?" letting out in a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?" you looked up into his eyes. Your hands resting against his chest, the hard muscle underneath flexing, a low rumble coming from within. You’ve never seen him like this, so casual but also feral, eyes blown and panting.

"Am I interrupting ye in the midst of somethin'?" Johnny didn't know what the hell was going on. Looking at the Omega flushed against the old Alpha, he was just happy that after everything that happened it was nice to see his old lieutenant finally settling down with such a sweet thing. Simon finally broke his gaze from you, settling it on the Beta. “It was a nice chat, gotta go.”

"Come, I'll drive you home." he stated, gripping your upper arm as he moved you towards his car. The more you stood outside surround by people the more Simon got irritated. He couldn't put his finger on it, the changes within you. He'd been away from a couple of weeks; it was hard staying away but he had a responsibility and a job to do. "I can take the bus." you tried moving around Simon, spotting the other man who was now gawking. "Like hell." Simon held onto you firm, walking you to his car.

"See you around." the Scott yelled from somewhere behind. He couldn't wait to tell the other two men of what he witnessed. The grumpy old Alpha had found himself a sweet Omega.

The drive home was in silence, not even the radio to help ease the awkward tension building up in the car. When Simon pulled onto your street you gathered your belongings. "Wait." you snapped your head to the driver's side.

"What were you doing out so late?" he was trying to interrogate you "I had an appointment." you held your hands in your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "Hmm" Simon grunted out, the whole way back to your apartment he had to stop himself from pulling the car over and pouncing on you.

Something wasn't right and he didn't like it or maybe he did. It confused him nonetheless and he wanted answers.

"You want to come up?" you don't know why you asked, why those words spilled out of your mouth. Simon was surprised too, cocking his head to side. "Sure." he cut the engine.

Once inside your apartment you didn't bother asking him if he wanted anything to drink. Unless he's into expired milk or tap water. The hulking man walked around your small place, picking things up and putting them down. Take in his surroundings, he already didn’t like you living in this area. He’s scoped out your apartment, the front door was a piece of shit, with a little bit of a jiggle and it popped open.

Walking towards your dingy couch he noticed the paper on the table, picking it up he scanned the words. You didn't.... His eyes found your form, busying yourself around your small kitchen. Shoving dirty dished into the sink to be forgotten about till later. Simon sniffed the air again, there was that familiar scent again. The smell of an Omega, the similar one that clung to his Boss, that filled every space of his home.

Omega.

He felt is heart quicken, his blood run thin. He's only had this feeling a few times, he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time. You noticed his completion pale, worrying you, grabbing a glass and filling it with your last bottle of water. Rushing to his side and calling his name.

Simon was so far away; he was in the middle of the raging ocean. The waves crashing over him, pulling him deeper under every unforgiving wave. Lungs full of burning salt water, gasping with arms stretched to the sky.

You could do the only thing you could think of you climbed into his lap. Curling yourself around him, rubbing your scent glad over his nose and mouth.

[slavghoul]

Font of all Ghost knowledge, please help! It’s a controversial one….

I’m seeing lots of people saying “stop calling Papa III ‘Terzo’ he’s Papa III” - yet I’m sure I heard him introduce himself as Papa Emeritus Terzo? Am I imagining that?

Also, did Copia ever announce himself as Papa IV in any way?

Second part - probably more controversial. I hear people say “Stop naming the ghouls, they are nameless ghouls!” Yet… Didn’t Papa name Alpha and Omega? And use their names on stage multiple times? Where did Alpha and Omega come from as names?

*Runs and ducks for cover*

Aw don't worry that's pretty tame as far as controversial questions go lol I expected worse.

1) He did cause he introduced himself in Italian. Like these are just ordinal numbers in Italian right? He simply said "I am Papa Emeritus the Third." Either way, it's an old v. new fans debate. Old fans find it odd because no one ever referred to the Papas as such in the past. Up until recently probably the only place you'd come across it was fanfiction. For me personally to see it in regular context and serious discussions is extremely, extremely odd, I'm simply not used to it. I assume that's why some people have a problem with it.

2) Papa IV never had a fancy Italian introduction unfortunately, he simply walked onto the stage looking hot as fuck.

3) All ghoul names were fan given. Omega came about because of a sticker Martin had on his guitar of the omega letter. Then people started referring to Simon as Alpha since he was the other guitarist and, you know, it just fit. "I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last" and all that. Around 2013 ghouls had their elemental symbols sewn onto the outfits and so we started referring to them based on that. Papa indeed called them by those names occasionally. That stopped in 2017 and since then he only referred to them as "ghoul" on stage. Again, this is somewhat of an old v. new fans debate and one that has been going on for over a decade (the then-new fans are now the old fans 🤔 lol). I never understood it though. It's just a way to tell the ghouls apart easily, no big deal.

[captain-mj]

May I request sorta feral/primal soap with ghost? Like kink as a way of healing from feeling dehumanized by others.

I hope I interpreted this the right way? If not, just send me an another ask and I'll try again lol

Ghost knew Soap had a rough mission out there. He had been gone for almost three months, far longer than expected.

Simon waited on the tarmac to meet him. Naively, he dressed himself in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. It was rather late at night and he just wanted to see him. The cold started to seep him but he just ignored it.

Soap looked terrible when he first came in but his eyes found Ghost's immediately. His face still had the grease paint and tac gear on. No blood on his vest or dirt on his hands. Ghost could see something off about Soap. He didn't speak much and seemed to be picking at his fingernails out of boredom. Or maybe anxiety. Whatever it was, he had bloodied his fingers.

Ghost asked him if he wanted to sit with him in his room and Soap followed him. He missed something. Had to have.

Soap jumped him like a rabid dog. Primal play wasn't out of the ordinary for them, though it was usually talked extensively about beforehand and always at Ghost's, usually really embarrassed, request. Ghost was always the feral one. The one that Soap tamed.

But Soap was desperate and feral in a way that usually made Ghost's hair stand on end. He hated when people sexualized him. His trauma made being pinned down or out of control hard on him. It stressed him out and usually got him very much out of the mood.

However... Soap was so desperate. He rubbed up against Ghost's back, his cock hard against Ghost's back.

Ghost grabbed him hard to keep him still and turned around. Soap growled and tried to get pressed back up against him.

"Calm down, love. I'll give you what you want."

Soap nodded and swallowed thickly, looking over Ghost's body. He started to grab at him, groping along his waist and his ass. Growls came from his throat.

Ghost knew he should push him away. Soap may not be in his right mind. But the moment he tried to put some distance, Soap looked so upset.

"Fucking hell." Ghost grabbed him and pushed him to his bed. He started undoing his tac gear, happy to see that underneath it, he was a lot more clean. "Calm down, Johnny."

Soap yanked Ghost around and shoved him onto the bed. He straddled him and shoved his hands under Ghost's sweatshirt. Ghost tried to sit up and he got shoved back down.

Soap attacked his neck, biting and sucking greedily. Ghost had to slip off his ski mask because Soap didn't seem to mind just going through it. He kept rutting desperately against Ghost's thigh. His poor love was so wanting.

Soap got him undressed and tried to get himself on Ghost's cock.

Ghost stopped him immediately. "Soap, I'm going to hurt you wai-"

Soap smashed their lips together before spitting on his fingers. He held it up to Ghost who spit on them, watching their saliva mingle. He was quick to shove them in himself, whimpering into Ghost's throat. HIs mouth continued to work over Ghost's skin, eyes rolling back in his head.

Ghost had never felt so turned on his life. Soap had a tendency to get lost in pleasure, but this was something else. He seemed only half sane and more than a little feral.

The moment Soap wasn't in clear pain, he sat up and sank down on his cock. "Yes...." It was the first word Soap had bothered to mutter. He started to rock as hard as he could, moaning loudly. He buried his face into Ghost's chest now, losing himself to it.

Ghost groaned and tried to regain some control but Soap sank his teeth into his pec, drawing a little bit of blood. He moaned softly and turned his head away from Soap.

Soap grabbed him hard and forced him to look at him. They stared at each other as Soap rode him hard. They started to kiss and Ghost felt like his thoughts were melting.

There was just Soap.

He managed to speed up even more, panting hard. Ghost nipped his lip and Soap growled at him.

"Down boy. You can keep going."

Soap nodded and his eyes rolled back again. He just kept going, ignoring when he came all over Ghost's chest.

Ghost bit his lip and groaned. "You're so good. Such a good boy." It was so tight. So fucking tight.

Ghost came so hard he couldn't see for a minute. "Soap...."

Soap growled at him and continued rocking.

"What happened out there?"

"Didn't have you." Soap panted.

Ghost huffed out a little laugh. "Come on now. Couldn't be that bad."

Soap growled and Ghost's cock twitched where it was still embedded in Soap's hole. "Was that bad. Couldn't even have a wank in peace. Kept thinking about you."

Ghost hummed. "Come on. Get off of me."

"Nah. I have some making up to do. You're going to sit there and take it."

Ghost swallowed and Soap faltered immediately. "I didn't go too far, did I Simon?"

"Nah. Bloody hot." He grabbed the headboard. "Take what you need, yeah?"

Soap groaned and immediately started to ride him harder.

[mermaidsirennikita]

oooh, you've read "ruthless" by anne stuart!! was waiting to hear your thoughts! it threw me for a loop because i'd never read a romance with a truly trash hero before (derek craven is practically noble-hearted in comparison), and francis just aaaahh. i love how he's absolutely insane about his liking for elinor. and by that i mean, how he's all "i don't REALLY like her, i'm just interested a little, but i DON'T LIKE her, but also like... i'm interested?" and it's just great to see it play out. also love how his gentleness comes out at times. him being a trashbag makes the gentle moments that much more precious!!

and that moment when he grabs her hand and puts it to his crotch to show her he's not lying about how much he wants her?? i about died!!!

the only bad thing about this book is that WAY too abrupt ending that just comes and wallops you out of nowhere. after all that nonsense fighting beforehand (which was obviously great & necessary nonsense), i felt like we DESERVED some good, long moments of these two actually relishing their love for each other. and i was so sad to see that the second book has such a huge leap forward in the timeline! i need more of them. :( (was seriously considering writing fanfic...) anyways. yes. i love francis and elinor. so many good moments.

Francis is definitely a step away from the historical romance heroes of say, Kleypas lol. A lot of people THINK they've read asshole heroes... Or dark heroes, for that matter... But until you've read Anne Stuart? Nah. And I'd honestly say that the Rohan heroes are kinda tame compared to say, Nicholas of A Rose at Midnight (proooobably her darkest book I've read) or even Simon of Lord of Danger (my favorite Anne Stuart historical; maybe my favorite Anne Stuart in general). And they definitely don't go as far as Killian of her contemporary romantic suspense, Ice Storm (the other contender for my favorite Anne Stuart). Francis is for sure the darkest Rohan, though. I'd say Lucien is second, then Adrian, then Benedick, and finally Brandon.

And I agree, the gentleness is more meaningful because you've seen how dark he can be. I truly think this is something a lot of authors are missing when they only write cinnamon rolls. I'm not saying that every hero needs to be a dark hero, but the fact is that if the romance hero is just a Nice Guy the whole time, there's no room to grow. Francis has great character development in that book. A lot of Anne Stuart heroes really Go Through It, and they should because they're little twats.

I'm a huge fan of the classic, admittedly dubcon at best, "FEEEEEEEEL how much I desire you, you silly woman" moments. Even if they wouldn't fly in real life. I'm not reading to experience real life, after all.

Anne's books often have these really sudden endings, and idk. I have a weird fondness for them. I find the breakneck pacing of her books really refreshing, and while I do think this book could've used maybe a bit more, I kind of admire the gumption she has to end on these really stark realizations. Like, Ice Storm ends very abruptly, and it has one of the best final moments I've ever read in a romance. She doesn't always score with that tactic, but for me it's almost like a "Damn, you went for it" writing admiration lol. It speaks to a confidence she has, which I think characterizes her writing in general. She doesn't ALWAYS knock it out of the park, but you can tell she's totally unafraid.

[rotating-hyperfixations]

Yellowjackets Rewatch Thoughts - 01x03

I am so sorry to all of you that are sick of me:

Theme song and intro debut, easily one of my all time favorites

If they ever get rid of Ella being cunty in the opening, I’m suing

Van and Laura Lee leading the little funeral makes them canon besties to me

Tai centric episode!

Honestly surprising that it apparently took this long for someone to suggest that Tai was a cannibal from the plane crash, given that theories had to be running rampant I’m sure

Love seeing Shauna and Jeff’s loveless marriage, Shauna there is still time for you to leave that man and live your lesbian dreams!

First time I watched the MistyNat road trip, I genuinely thought Nat might actually kill Misty before they reached New Hampshire or wherever they were going

Travis being an ass and also a good older brother is biblically accurate sibling relationship

Jackie’s optimism is devastating knowing what happens

Jackieshauna tension is commencing and the start of TaiShauna’s friendship

Sometimes I’m amazed Shauna got into Brown because she is so dumb sometimes

Nat and Shauna being the only two to “comment” on the dead bear foreshadowing their future roles as Hunter and Butcher

Jessica Robert’s mafia member?

Simone, I get that it’s probably concerning that your wife is more concerned about her political strategy then the angry outbursts; but she experienced unspeakable horrors in the woods, her priorities being a little skewed cannot be shocking

Man the juxtaposition of the context of Dreams vs Zombie is start to say the least

Mari and Nat finding Travis hot and Jackie being shocked that they’re desperate for men after only 3 days, just get back on the beach with Tai and stare longingly at your girlfriends you fuckass lesbians

Misty was excited to comply with law enforcement and go to prison lol

Shauna’s homeland security bit is so poorly executed, this bitch cannot lie to save her life

Tai paying for Nat’s rehab, they are all so fucked up but still care about each other.

Lottie looks supremely uncomfortable in every shot she’s on this episode

Jackie, baby girl, your breakdown is justified but shit is going to get so much worse

I get why Javi kept chewing that gum, but I know it had to be nasty at that point

I will never buy the Shauna was a bad friend to Jackie allegations because she tried her hardest to help Jackie acclimate and not exiled by their friends

Ben’s crash out is so valid

Man with no eyes introduction, hopefully we get some answers or any information on that bitch soon

Tai threatening that other senator was so god damn hot

Cryptic Lottie also begins this episode, so tame compared with what’s to come

I also didn’t realize they start placing the bricks for “other Tai” this episode

RIP Travis

[shotmrmiller]

first off i love your interpretations of simon sm. secondly how do you think a more blunt "okay you're my wife after knowing you a day" simon would react to a reader whose equally into that 😭 would he be a little surprised or is that all the same to him?

lol ty <3

all the same. you'd be his wife whether you're into it or not so, ig it's a tad better? or worse.

naybe he wanted a bit of a fight. some angry hellion cat he's gotta tame before showing you off to the boys.

[quarterlifekitty]

How the boys convince, coerce and/or deceive reader into slowly (or not so slowly) allowing anal sex--

Uh I mean??? What???? Who said that?????

MUST HAVE BEEN THE WIND 👀

Warning I went a little crazy on König’s in terms of depth but it’s actually a lot more on the tame side lol @machveil come pick up your man from the sleepover he frew up

cw: lotta dubcon, abuse of dynamic kinda stuff, manipulation

Gaz is catching flies with honey here. He likes to spread you open, take a good look, just tell you about everything he appreciates. Doesn’t matter if it’s the first time or the hundredth time. And eventually, it’s not just about your pussy. It’s about your little starfish. How it looks so cute— he can see it clench a little when he plays with your pussy. You laugh about how much he talks about it, but he’s all “no, I’m serious, love! It’s really pretty, y’know? And it looks so tight—“. He’s killing you with kindness about it.

You and Soap send each other porn clips all the time. Sometimes because they’re funny, or they’re gross, or because they turn you on. It’s like baiting a fishing rod sometimes. See what you’ll lure from each other. And he starts sending more and more video with anal… All quite gentle. Makes sure it’s amateur stuff so it doesn’t seem completely fake and full of pornstar moans. So it looks like a real woman is enjoying herself from it. And it’s always followed by him being like “fuck, would love to open you up like this, bonnie” (he doesn’t text in his accent ok).

Ghost is literally praying for the day when you’re too fucked stupid or anxious to stop him. Occasionally, like a shark biting a surfer, he tests you. Sees how far you’ll let him take it before you tell him to stop. He’ll press his tip to your ass, see how long it takes for you to say no, Simon. He might even act like it was a mistake. As if he couldn’t find his way to your cunt from miles away in the dark with no map. He’s just waiting for you to be either too out of your mind in pleasure to speak out, or too afraid of ruining his fun.

Price is doing the classic frog in boiling water (yes I know that’s a myth). He starts by just pressing his thumb there while he’s fucking you from behind… working you up to taking a finger. Keeps doing it until eventually, you ask him to. It feels wrong when he isn’t doing it. And so then he starts to ease you into two, and so it goes until you barely notice when he’s pulled out his cock and has it positioned right where he wants it.

König is pretty painfully fucking awkward about the affair. Saying he wants to fuck your ass is probably something that’s slipped out once or twice in the throes of passion, but he doesn’t speak of it afterward. One day when he’s deployed, he leaves some gifts in places he knows you’ll find them while he’s gone. He usually does this after he’s been on leave for a while— it softens the heartache of the separation for you, when he leaves these little gestures. And usually there’s small things— a very nice chocolate assortment in your bedside table, a few origami figures in the medicine cabinet, a decorated hair pin with fine engravings clipped onto a kitchen towel. And this time, there’s a box with a range of plugs in the bottom drawer where you keep the bedsheets, which you only change every two weeks. It’s planned so you’ll get the other gifts first, and there’s one more expensive than usual thrown in among them to butter you up. There lube, too. A perfect training set in silver. It’s up to you to choose to use them, but he knows how curious and bored you can get on your own for all that time.

Nikolai is going to convince you that it’s what you need. When you’re right on the precipice of a complete collapse— when he knows he’s fucked and coddled you into subspace. Into being suggestible. It’s when you’re on the verge of crashing from it, of dropping, breathing heavy and tears stinging your eyes that he tells you “I know what would make you calm down, malýshka.” When you’re so sensitive and vulnerable and wanting to drop back into that place where he’s everything and you’re nothing but his clay. So of course you nod— you’d have agreed to anything not to have to face your panic outside of his comforting embrace. If Nikolai says it will help, it will help. You have to believe that.